


What am I doing (get me out of here)

by Leximuth



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horrortale, Alternate Universe - Underswap, Eating Disorders, Food Issues, Gen, Implied Cannibalism, Smoking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, mild body horror, pta linda - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 09:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14808528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leximuth/pseuds/Leximuth
Summary: On the Surface, after the Hunger, Sans can't let go of old cravings so easily. Sanses are good at self-destruction. Fortunately, Papyruses are good at keeping them together.Trade your burger for Linda's potato salad. It has raisins!





	What am I doing (get me out of here)

**Author's Note:**

> I love the idea of the Horrortale monsters adjusting to Surface life where there's no real scarcity of food. Also love the idea of them being way large. Also also, Horrortale Sans just constantly swearing about everything. Here, have a story that's literally just those three things.

Sans didn't give a fuck about multiverse theory or clones or whatever the fuck the mini-mes running around were up to. He cared that the Surface had food, and plenty of it, and Papyrus could eat as much as he needed or wanted or cared to. Sans could too, he supposed, but the tight clench of hunger never really went away even when he had more monster food magic wrapping his bones in warm comfort than he'd ever had before.

He didn't ask if Papyrus was still hungry too. He was afraid of the answer.

So while it was surprising that they got invited to the neighborhood block party, whatever that was, as soon as he heard there was free fucking food Sans was in. So there'd be humans and mini-mes and whatever, so what. Food was food.

Which explained how he'd ended up at the party, but it sure as Void didn't explain why Stretch stepped around the trash cans, lighter and cigarette in hand, and practically tripped on Sans crouched with one hand in his fucking socket and the other shoving a fucking human burger in his face.

And of course the first fucking thing out of Stretch's perfect little dumbfounded face was, "Axe, that's not food." Because it wasn't. They could both smell it, the magicless _meat_ of it.

"I'm hungry," Sans said, like it was a sensible answer. It wasn't, not to this kind of monster, the little fragile kind that hadn't had to learn shit the hard way or reshape themselves into _monstrosities_. He dug his distal bones in a little harder, scraping his socket painfully. This was miserable, Stretch's eyelights too bright and piercing, the one bite of burger he'd managed to force down sitting heavy in his magic. The meat felt good and he hated it. Just out of spite he took another bite, staring down Stretch, jaw opening too wide as he wrapped that lifeless, cold hunk of not-food in his magic and tucked it safely away to slowly disintegrate into nothing.

Stretch flinched first, looked away and lit his cigarette with a barely-shaking hand. "Wait here," he mumbled, and - no. Voidfucking shit no. He was gonna tell Paps, Sans would have to explain, he'd have to put in words how real magic food felt like nothing at all and even though they didn't have to eat this shit anymore and he wasn't supposed to _want to_ he was just _so hungry--_

"Easy," Stretch said. Sans's hand flexed on Stretch's arm, too tight. He'd stood somewhere in there, grabbed Stretch, lost a few seconds or a minute to panic. He stared at his hand, at the damp red on his fingertips from the raw magic at the back of his socket. "Easy," Stretch said again, nicotine-stained finger bones covering his own. Sans flinched and let go instantly.

"Don't tell him," Sans rumbled hoarsely. Not looking Stretch in the eyelights, not wanting to see the kind of pity that sort of begging would provoke. His grip on the burger was still too tight, digging grooves in the bun.

"Nah." Stretch shoved his hand back into his hoodie, taking a hard drag on the cigarette before holding it out. "Hang onto this for me?"

Sans took it on automatic, watched in utter bafflement with a burger in one hand and a cig in the other as Stretch stepped back into the party. The ebb and flow of pleasant voices didn't change, no sign that Stretch was saying anything, just meaningless chit-chat flowing and melding together. There were so many people on the Surface. Sans had stopped trying to remember any names or faces, there were just so many, the whole of Snowdin could have fit into his apartment building even before the Hunger...

Paps (orange hoodie Paps, the delicate Paps, the safe Paps) came back around the trash bins with a giant fucking bowl of potato salad, serving spoon and all. Sans blinked dumbly at him. The cigarette was burning his fingers.

"Sorry that took a while," Stretch said. "Your bro was looking for you. I told him you were fine, just taking a breather away from the crowd. That alright?"

It was true enough. "Sure." Sans held out the smoldering butt, not thinking, and managed to not flinch when Stretch just leaned in to catch it right in his mouth. Right, yeah, hands full of potato salad.

"Siddown," Stretch told him, then just plopped the fucking salad in his lap and sat next to him, pulling out a fresh cigarette. "Figured this is better than meat, right? If you're gonna have human food, should probably try to make it a little less likely to put you in a bad place."

Sans stared at him, unblinking, long enough to make it uncomfortable. (Better than showing confusion, weakness.) Stretch just lit his cigarette in a quick flash of flame, met his half-lit stare without flinching. "Look, you don't gotta explain anything to me. I'm not asking. But you don't have to do everything the hardest way possible. If you don't wanna eat monster food that's your business, but scarfing a rare burger in secret just seems like the worst way to do it. I know self-destructive bullshit when I see it."

Well. He wasn't wrong. Awkwardly, Sans juggled the burger and spoon, finally getting a mouthful of the potato salad. He ate silently for a few minutes, long enough for Stretch to stub out the butt and lean back with a sigh. It wasn't the most awkward few minutes of his life but it sure as fuck was right up there.

The worst part was that Stretch was right. Sanses were into the self-destructive bullshit, apparently, and Stretch was an honorary Sans. They were both indulging vices back here with the trash and they both knew better.

"There's fucking raisins in this," Sans told him, taking another spoonful. He shoved the burger at Stretch without looking, trying not to follow the iron smell of it. Somehow Stretch had been expecting that or something - he put it off to the side, out of sight but still ostensibly now Stretch's, even though there was no way he'd actually eat it. Probably didn't even know how. "Who the fuck puts raisins in potato salad?"

Stretch snort-laughed, leaning his elbows on his femurs and flicking his lighter idly. "Linda," he said simply.

"Linda has shit taste," Sans said, because it was obviously true. His spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl. "You gave me this because no one else was gonna eat this crap."

"Guilty as charged." Stretch smiled at him, small and orange and soft. "You'd lose your shit if it got tossed out, anyway."

Okay, true, but rude. "Don't waste food and I won't lose any shit. Problem solved." Sans squinted side-eye at him, sitting a little taller to drive the size difference home. He'd be big as a Papyrus and he was fucking huge as a Sans and he knew it. Big bones, heh. "Don't waste that burger."

Stretch softened even more, if that was possible, giving him a look that wasn't pity but something equally painful. "I won't. Promise." Sans waited, scraping the last raisins out of the bowl. His magic was warm and gooey in his ribcage, slowly gnawing at the frankly ridiculous amount of crap he'd just shoved into it. It kinda almost felt like fullness. "I know a guy, he'll eat anything on a dare. I'll tell him I spit in it."

Sans startled into a laugh, rough and honest. "What, that would make it more appealing? Humans make no fucking sense."

"Don't I know it." Stretch stood, arching his spine in a symphony of pops before settling into a comfortable slouch. True to his word, he picked up the burger. "Ready to head back?"

"Yeah." Sans left the bowl and spoon there with the trash because fuck Linda and her raisins. Stretch didn't even raise a brow, just led the way back to the barely-contained chaos that was a block party of humans, monsters, and their extended families. Their brothers were right there, of course, thinly-veiled worry and overstimulation making both jittery. Blue actually jumped on his brother, commandeering a shoulder ride over to... some guy trying to drink a beer while standing on his head. Yeah, that looked like a guy who would eat anything.

Sans met Papyrus' squinted look head-on, feeling steadier than he had in weeks. Paps was moving even more carefully than usual - worried sick, then. Keeping his too-long limbs tucked close and moving slow to overcompensate for his bad vision. Yeah, Sans wasn't getting out of this one without explaining _something._

"Later," he murmured, meaning it for once. Paps nodded silently. "We done here yet?" Another nod. Definitely overstimulated. They were both gonna need to decompress after this. People were draining, the finer details of social niceties still awkward for both of them after so long without.

It could have been worse, Sans figured. He was walking home in warm setting sunlight, his bro's quiet steps keeping pace beside him, with something like fullness in his ribcage. Yeah. Coulda been a lot worse.


End file.
